


Fantastic Beasts and the Curse Breakers

by ravenpuff1956



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, hopefully good!, idea for fantastic beast 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 03:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: The only way to defeat Grindlewald....is going to be harder than anyone expected. Newt just wants to be at home, with his beasts and Tina. But Dumbledore has got other plans.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is a repeat of first chapter of a fic I posted on Tumblr a few days ago.  
> Hope everyone enjoys!
> 
> Disclaimer: quite a dark Queenie.

Germany 1930

She was laughing. He wasn’t even sure if what he said was funny or even that intelligent. The alcohol had clogged his brain, and everything was blurred at the edges. She was just so soft, so pretty, with her blonde curls and confident American twang.

“Oh honey, you’re so funny!” she twittered reaching across the bar to take her hand in his. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into his palm, hard. She lent over, letting her lips brush against his ear.

“Do you want to get out of here? She murmurs slow, seductively.

“With me?” he slurs.

“Why of course,” she bats her eyelashes innocently at him.

“Not too many foreign witches are up for a night with a German wizard,” this is unfortunately true he thinks, shooting the rest of his drink. After the great war, Germany is generally considered the outcast of Europe.

“Well,” she says pausing for effect, “not many witches are like me,” she gives him a girlish wink. He almost falls off his stool in his haste to get the bill.

Her hand falls seamlessly through his, her touch exciting and electric. He wasn’t good enough for her, too old, too balding, way past his prime. She’s bright, bubbly, and beautiful. She extends a delicate tongue into the cold night air, catching snowflakes, eyes dancing with delight. He floats in and out of her mindless chattering, she’s an hypnotising bird and he’s agreeing readily and without a care in the world.

“We’re going to have such a nice time” - “Yes” Yes.

“This is a fancy house” – “Yes” It’s not actually mine.

“You’re a curse breaker, you said?” – “Yes” Did he say that?

“I’ve got a friend coming along, if you don’t mind” – “Yes” As long as she looks like you.

They’re inside now, stumbling through hall ways. She raises her wand elegantly, and charms off her shoes. Then her stockings. Yes. She points her want at him.

“Your turn honey,” and everything goes black.

——

His headache hits him like a train, almost knocking him flat. Or at least it would’ve done, if he wasn’t currently tied to a chair. He grinds his teeth anxiously. A pair of wary, heated eyes study him from a dark corner. They widen, noticing his eye contact.

“Queenie? He’s awake,” his voice is American too, but shaking. Like a leaf in the wind.

“I told you to do it before he woke Credence,” his blonde gives a mothering sigh, “it’ll be harder otherwise,”

“I… don’t want,” the young man shakes his head erratically, fighting a losing battle within himself. Clicking her tongue impatiently,she strides towards the boy- Credence- running a loving hand through his hair.

“For the Greater Good, Credence,” she says softly.

He’s struck cold with fear. No. He was so careful. It’s not possible. It can’t be.

“Nein!” he screams wildly, praying for anyone, anything to come and save him.

“For the Greater Good,” the boy says slowly raising his wand. There’s a flash of green light. Then nothing. 

 

London 1930.

“And bow…” Newt says, a tentative hand placed on the small of Tina’s back.

“Yes I do know what to do, Newt” Tina whispers amused, but not looking away from the pair of majestic almond eyes, “I’ve been here since she was born,”

“Just in case you forgot,” he shoots back cheekily, “or fell asleep,” Tina aims a kick at Newt’s shin, which probably would’ve hit its mark if she hadn’t currently been in a deep bend. Last week he’d found her exhausted, curled up with the baby demiguises, even at her previous insistence that she ‘really wasn’t tired’. He’s never going to let her live it down.

“I hate you,” she says huffily, after Carol also bent a scaly knee forward.

“Of course you do,” he says disbelieving giving her a quick hug round her waist. She puffs out her cheeks in mock anger, but gives him a small grin. They both enjoy their banter, but her soft smiles make him ache a bit. But they’re taking it slow. ‘As slow as a pair of bloody snails’ as Theseus would say when he’s in a good mood. He’s hardly ever in a good mood. He’s still wearing the traditional mourner’s black, despite the rest of them changing back to colours a few months ago.

Shaking those miserable thoughts away, he holds up a selection of ferrets for Carol to approve as Tina gives the spoilt hippogriff a rub down. It’s Bunty’s day off, and their annual group dinner night, so Tina and Newt are busy finishing off the rounds before Jacob arrives. He likes it- just him and her. An comfortable silence and his beasts. Over the last two years he’s cherished these moments, tucked them away, kept them save. Tina, surrounded by a halo of snidgets, all competing for her attention. Tina’s wet eyes when the diricawl’s last chick refused to hatch. Tina watching him entranced as he helped the Erumptent give birth to baby Susie. She finds everything he does fascinating and he loves her for it.

Carol’s eyes, blink at him, way too often and way too fast for his liking. He stares closer, only mildly registering Jacob’s clattering down the stairs and Tina’s greeting. There’s flecks of dry matter in the corner of each pupil and around each of the beast’s eyelids.

“It’s all right,” he croons, “Mum’s on it,”

“Tina?” Newt calls out, “can I have the eye-“

“Eyedropper,” she confirms, pressing the object into his hand.

“How do you always know?” he hums.

“Magic,” she replies a sweet smile playing around her lips, sliding her fingers out of his.

Merlin, she’s amazing.

“Oi! Love birds!” Jacob cuts in smirking. Tina jumps back from him, biting her lip, face falling into her stereotypical frown. Newt shoots him a look of pure evil, but Jacob just grins. Why is he his best friend again? “sorry to interrupt,” Jacob continues, “but Tina, Theseus is up stairs asking for you, apparently it’s important,”

“Right,” Tina says worried, “I’m on it,” she takes the stairs two at a time. Newt’s found his brother prefers Tina’s company to Jacob’s or even his own. Jacob is too likely to make an ill timed joke, Newt’s too likely to smile inappropriately. Tina’s serious, but caring nature seems to work for him. ‘A bit brash at times, but a nice girl Newt, and a damn good auror,’.

“When did he get here? He asks Jacob absently, finishing tending to the hippogriff’s eyes.

“About the same time I did,” Jacob said, watching Newt shut the gate of Carols pen, and wiping the dirt off his pant legs, “he was pacing on your doorstep. I reckon something happened at work,”

“Lately, somethings always happening at work,” Newt mutters darkly. Already aurors have begun to go missing, all in ‘mysterious’ circumstances. He’s made Tina promise to not take any ‘unnecessary risks’, when it comes to her work. But she only promised half-heartedly, and Newt already knows if something tugs on her heart hard enough she will fight, tooth and nail. It’s one of the things that attracts him to her.

“Have you kissed her yet?” Jacob asks, as they climb the steps in time. 

“No,” Newt says simply, wondering whether Queenie ever taught Jacob her gift of legilimency.

“Pal, not to be blunt, but why the hell not?” Jacob sounds unbelieving. Newt’s not sure he blames him.

“There just hasn’t been the right moment yet,” this is not entirely true. There have been many moments. Stolen glances, close foreheads. For Merlin’s sake, in Paris he could’ve kissed her. However, to finally kiss, to take that next step… It’s like they’re both balancing on a tightrope between friendship and something evidently more dear. They want to jump, to catch each other in an embrace. But what if someone slips? What if someone falls? 

“We’re taking it slow,” Newt says resolutely.

“Whatever you say mate” Jacob sounds fed up, pushing open the door to Newt’s apartment. Tina and Theseus sit together in an intense conversation, empty tea cups sit forlorn in front of them. A kettle wails impatiently on the stove, and Newt levitates it onto the counter top before it sprays them all with boiling liquid.

“Are you certain?” Tina says, enraptured, her grown out fringe falling excitedly over her eye line.

“Yes. We’ve got to go now. All of us,” Theseus says heatedly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table top.

“Go where?” Newt says suspiciously.

Theseus looks up, his eyes wild and bright. He’s practically smacking his lips in anticipation.

“Dumbledore’s finally found someone to break the blood pact,” Theseus announces to Jacobs’ curiosity and Newt’s horror, “he wants us to track them down,”

“Dumbledore,” Newt falls into the chair next to Tina with a thud. Even his name gives him a headache. He’d thought perhaps, that his old professor would forget about their little group. Leave them in peace, give the task to some people more experienced. More willing. But Tina’s eyes are also bright, and excited. A new case they seem to say, a new puzzle to solve. He wishes he had their positivity. This will not end well.

“When?” Newt sighs defeated.

“Hogshead. Five minutes, be there,“ Theseus stands briskly, shooting a glare at Newt “Jacob, Tina…little brother,” and he disapperates.


	2. Grindlewald's plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised the second chapter. Note: The third will not come this quickly! But hopefully in the next couple of days. Spoilers: I'm also assuming that Yusuf's unbreakable vow is about killing Credence.   
> Enjoy!

Newt and Jacob appear in a flourish in the musty bar. His brother has already finished half a pint, Nagini, who looks flustered, has her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and Tina is busy ordering drinks from the disgruntled bar man. Then there’s the man himself- Albus Dumbledore- wearing a well-made, plum coloured suit, sitting peacefully at the head of the dusty table. A mysterious note lays folded, waiting patiently in front of the great wizard, a young girl in a large painting directly behind him keeps sneaking looks over his shoulder obviously attempting a peak. 

“Hello Newt,” he says graciously, indicating to the seat next to him.

“Professor,” Newt says testily, flopping down onto the chair. 

But Dumbledore stays infuriating silent. One of Theseus’s agitated feet is jingling the entire table. Jacob attempts to engage Nagini in conversation but she only manages to answer in monosyllables, and so he gives up the leaving the table in uncomfortable silence. It’s forever and a day, when Tina, who has five drinks precariously balanced against her chest takes at seat, and Dumbledore finally clears his throat. 

“Yusuf isn’t here yet,” Nagini speaks quietly, eyes glancing anxiously at the door.

“Yusuf isn’t coming,” Dumbledore sighs heavily.

“Why?” Jacob asks, accepting his drink from Tina. 

Dumbledore, hesitating for half a second, waves his wand in a simple wave like motion, and the letter on the table is magnified to ten times its size so all can read it. 

Friends,  
I can’t take it anymore. I have to be rid of this burden, and I’m afraid this can only be done one way. We’ll meet again, myself God willing being a changed man.  
Yusuf Kuma.

Newt runs a disbelieving eye over the words again not wanting to comprehend the message. Not him too. Tina is almost vibrating with anger beside him, and he places a calming hand on her thigh before she says anything she might regret. 

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Jacob says slowly.

“There are many possibility’s,” Dumbledore says to the ceiling, “unfortunately some are more probable than others,” 

“Bastard,” Theseus slaps his hand on the table causing Nagini to jump. 

With a flick of his wand the letter crawls back into itself and disappears into Dumbledore’s coat pocket. 

“He’s going after Credence then,” Tina spits, her eyes glowing with passion.

“Maybe,” Newt believes Dumbledore might be the most maddening man he'll ever know, “Maybe not,”

The wooden table, gives a slight shiver, then enchanted newspaper headlines seem to grow like moss across its surface. Multiple languages, colours and moving pictures flow into each other like a kaleidoscope, but each seems to portray the same message. A mysterious death, caused by Grindlewald’s followers. 

“Mysterious deaths aren’t particularly news, Dumbledore,” Theseus says impatiently. 

Dumbledore’s eyes are shut tightly, as if great pain, and inclines his head tersely to the paper directly in front of Newt. Through his immature German he manages to just make out the red inked news, dated exactly a week ago. 

Mr Albert Katczinsky, 59, was found dead in his house yesterday morning. Last seen on the arm of a Blonde dame, the death of this successful wizard is a devastating loss to the whole community (although not for the reason most readers might think). Neighbours awoke to find his body, and what is believed to be his life’s work on fire.  
‘Those bloody curse breakers and their insane security measures,’ complained a soot covered next door neighbour, ‘the flames had already spread to number 23 and 25. Thankfully my Elsa was up getting a glass of water and noticed the blaze- personally I don’t see who would want to read his papers on Egyptian tombs anyway, no matter how clever they are’ 

Newt has a sinking feeling in his stomach, slowing putting the rest of the puzzle together, his travels giving him a multilingual advantage over the rest of the group. Mysterious deaths- curse breakers- life work destroyed. Russia, Germany, Italy, France. His sinking stomach falls to his toes.

“He’s culling his way through Europe,” Newt exclaims aghast, to everyone’s confusion. 

“Exactly,” Dumbledore inclines his head, tapping his wand on each of the papers turning them each into English, “Grindlewald is sending out his cronies to find and destroy all the possible witches and wizards that could possibly break… our blood pact,” he says the last sentence softly, hanging his head. 

Tina whips the German paper from out from under Newt’s nose, He watches as her lips hastily read over the article. Her fingers seemingly gentle caress one particular sentence, but angry sparks fly off her nailbeds and catch the paper alight. Coat flying out behind her she stands and kicks her chair across the room, swearing under her breath. Nagini takes the job of reaching out to calm her, so Newt hastily puts out the fire with his wand, searching the page to find what upset her. Small cigarette shaped burns, blackened and curled in at the edges surround the phrase ‘blonde dame’. Jacob who has been reading over his shoulder moans, and puts his head in his hands. Queenie. 

“If he’s making his way through Europe, then what are we going to do?” Nagini asks eyes wide. 

“Find someone trustworthy and willing to help us out of Europe,” says Dumbledore simply, “And I think I finally have- in Rio,”

“Rio? As in South America?” Theseus sounds gobsmacked. Apparently even he hadn’t considered this.

“No brother, Rio as in Antarctica,” Newt retorts, attempting to put on a serene façade. Memory’s flow over him. Brushing crumbs on his fingers and feeling more than seeing the disappearing sun. Tears flowing freely down his face, his brother in his arms and a girl’s fingers around his. That was the tragic outcome of simply going to find Tina in Paris. What would the terrible outcome be of an actual mission?

“I’ve got a plan, if you’re willing?” Dumbledore asks staring pleadingly at each in turn, ignoring how the barman rudely scoffs. 

Around the table a grandiose silence forms, a deep anticipation. Then one by one- Theseus, Tina, Jacob, Nagini nod. All eyes turn to him. 

“Newt?” Dumbledore questions him, raising a slightly gratified eyebrow. He remembers his brothers’ frantic spellmanship before Leta was engulfed in flames, Tina’s broken scream as her whole body fell in on itself. 

“Okay,” he whispers.  
\-------

“Miss Goldstein? A word?” Dumbledore asks Tina, just before they’re about to leave. Tina waves a tired hand; (it is now well past midnight) gesturing at the group to wait for her outside. Newt feels slightly antsy as the door shuts behind her, unwilling to leave her with his conniving ex-school teacher. Theseus is leaning against a frozen pole, smoking. An old war time habit. 

“Stress related,” he replies shortly to Newt’s judgmental frown. 

The brothers stare out into the snowy night. The lights of hogsmeade, create a picturesque picture of calm. A sweet moment to relax into, before the hell to come.

“What do you think of it?” Newt says quietly, his breath intermingling with the bitter smoke. 

His brother sighs, “As long as nothing goes wrong,” 

“It’s Dumbledore,” Newt says raising an eyebrow. Theseus cocks his own, much more elegantly, but none the less understanding.

“So we’re fucked” They say together chuckling. Another persons breathe puffs appears between their own.

“What are you too giggling about?” Tina says amusement clouding her voice. Newt bites his lip, hoping desperately she didn’t hear him swear. The slight dark look in her eye suggests otherwise and Newt groans as Theseus laughs harder.

“What did Dumbledore want?” he attempts to bring some calm back into the conversation.

“Nothing much,” Tina says softly, rocking back onto her heels. She too stares out into the night, and up at the moon, “he’s just given me a two-way mirror so we can contact him while we’re away,”

“Smart man Dumbledore,” Theseus quips before saying his goodbyes and ‘popping’ away. 

Newt stares a Tina who, slightly misty eyed, is seemingly lost in herself. Snowflakes fall onto her hair, making a soft halo around her head. She’s beautiful. He wraps a hand around her wrist and she jumps.

“Did you want to come back to my place for a night-cap?” he asks softly. 

“Not tonight,” she says, slightly nasally. Disappointed he lets his eyeline fall to her ankles, fringe hiding his face. Newt must look as upset as he feels, because she gives him a small smile, brushing some snow out of his fringe, “I’m a bit tired, and…brain fuzzled at the moment. But maybe tea before we leave at mine tomorrow?” she asks hesitantly. He smiles back and her eyes fill with delight. The sway together in the night air, not quite sure how to say goodbye. 

“You two are so dumb,” He hears Jacob mutter behind them. 

\---------

An Unknown cell- Sweden.

Grindlewald marches around the amphitheatre calmly, as the crowd hangs onto his every word. The prisoner sits, chin against the heavy bars, their wrists held behind their back by powerful ropes, watching him. The prisoner sighs, catching all the enthralled stares of the captive audience. Some look unconvinced. But they are few and far between. Tucking away these dreary thoughts they attempt to focus on something else. Not their guards- they're smelly as well as stupid.  
But two figures stand closer than any other would- the prisoner knows there’s an large sign pasted on their bars that say ‘do not interact’ and ‘extremely dangerous’ (this is highly amusing, the prisoner can’t help but bark a laugh, they can’t even go to the toilet by themselves, let alone hold a wand). The two figures must be a part of Grindlewald’s inner circle- privileged and cruel. But is this pair as sinister as they seem? The prisoner knows some of them are- Rosier for example is as snake in kitten’s clothing. However, they believe that these are two of the newer recruits: Credence who always ignores the prisoner's gaze, and Queenie who once made them a sandwiches, although they weren’t supposed to get food that day. 

The prisoner leans closer against the bars, hoping to catch titbits of their conversation. 

“I wish she’d come too,” Credence says sadly, his voice like a whisper on the wind, “I wanted her too, she was kind to me,”

“Thank you Credence, but my sister will never follow Grindlewald,” Queenie says shrewdly, “of that I’m certain,”

“But you miss her,” the young man says, his statement voiced like a question. Queenie doesn’t answer. The back of her head isn’t enough for the prisoner to perceive the possible emotions on her face. 

“There might still be a chance, she wants to save me doesn’t she? If she comes, you might be able to convince her,” he sounds happy, almost too happy. Is it because of Queenie’s sister possibly joining the ‘Greater Good’ or is it the possibility of escape?

“Yes… perhaps,” Queenie says half-heartedly. The prisoner can tell she’s putting up a front. But Credence seems happier as they bounce away together. 

The prisoner cocks an eyebrow, and looks down, seemingly cracking their stiff back. 

“Did you get that?” they breathe.


End file.
